


Happy Hour

by NachtGraves



Series: dragon!fuyuhiko [1]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, creative freedom with cocktails and bartending, dragon!fuyuhiko, hajime is thirsty af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: On the first day of a new job, there’s not a whole lot worse you can do than to punch – accidentally! – a dragon in the face.





	Happy Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://nachtgraves.tumblr.com)!

Hajime really didn’t mean to. He wouldn’t have done it if he had had the choice or control of the way things unraveled.

On the first day of a new job, there’s not a whole lot worse you can do than to punch – _accidentally!_ – a dragon in the face. Never mind that the dragon is the heir to the Kuzuryuu clan, the clan that runs the city in all but name and owns the very club Hajime was just hired at.

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s done. One second he’s being shoved by a rowdy vampire who really shouldn’t be allowed any more Blood Drop cocktails, and the next, he’s trying to not fall over, swinging his arms to regain his balance, and his fist _smacks_ against something.

The something is the nose of the Kuzuryuu clan’s heir. A nose now covered by a delicate looking hand, above which golden eyes flare in anger with the promise of retribution. Molten gold scales appear on his skin, body preparing to change form.

“I’m so sorry!” Hajime squeaks, voice cracking like he’s going through puberty all over again. He doesn’t think about how during those developing years, the man before him played a significant role in Hajime’s understanding of his sexuality.

The Kuzuryuus are infamous. Everyone, from normal humans like Hajime to every known paranormal and Fae, knows who they are and can recognize them in a moment’s notice. This goes double for the heir, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, whose looks are just as infamous as his temper. The two often go hand-in-hand. Only someone with a death wish would dare to say anything about the golden dragon’s looks behind his back, much less to his very pretty face. He’s even more gorgeous in person.

Fuyuhiko eyes narrow further. “Why is a _mundane_ here?” he demands. And fuck he has a nice voice too. If only the heat in his tone was from a different emotion.

 “I was hired recently. Two days ago. Today’s my first day. Mr. Kuzuryuu. Hajime Hinata,” Hajime stutters out his explanation in equal parts terror and humiliation. Or maybe a little more terror, but he’s pretty mortified.

Fuyuhiko looks increasingly confused. And angry. “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Humans work in VIP. What the fuck are you doing down here where you could get hurt?” As if to prove his point, the rowdy vampire whose fault all this was, started complaining anew for more Blood Drops.

Hajime was just trying to go clean up a table that a group of very nice and adorably giggly-drunk dryads had vacated.

“You, shut the fuck up and get out before I deal with you personally,” Fuyuhiko snarls at the belligerently blood-drunk perpetrator. In a flash, the shining gold eyes are focused back on Hajime. “And you. Come with me.”

The vampire, subdued and sobered with fear, is escorted by his friends and Hajime follows after Fuyuhiko to the second floor. Even with his head down, Hajime knows all eyes are on them. He wouldn’t be surprised if people made bets on how the gold dragon was going to dispose of him.

The second floor of _Hope &Despair_ is the VIP area as well as where the main office is. Hajime has been up there only once, the day of his interview, which was, coincidentally, the first time he had ever set foot into the club. _H &D_’s general floor is paranormal exclusive. It’s both for safety – demonstrated by the drunk vampire – and because most establishments are the reverse. It’s one of the few places that’s a safe place for paranormals to be who they are.

However, _H &D_ doesn’t completely ban mundanes, they just make it harder for them to gain entry. If you’re mundane, your only chance at entry into _H &D_ is if you can get into the VIP floor, which means you need a paranormal VIP sponsor. For that, you had to be well connected with the paranormal elite – who are of an entirely different league to the mundane elite – and/or incredibly wealthy. Hajime is neither.

He trails after Fuyuhiko up the spiraled, neon-lined, clear steps. He doesn’t look at the ass he’s spent a little too much time staring at in magazines and articles featuring the perfect, dark jean hugged dragon.

….Okay, he peeks a little. It’s right in front of him, what could he possibly do?

The second floor is much different during opening hours than when Hajime had come by for his interview. For one, there are people around. Much fewer than the number downstairs, and these individuals are dressed in clothes that far exceed Hajime’s rent. Neon lights in dark blue and indigo hues created a classier atmosphere than the pink and orange and red downstairs, and music plays at a less ear shattering level.

The main office is tucked into the back corner opposite to the bar. It’s a comfortable room with one-way glass walls that allow anyone inside to see the floor while maintaining their own privacy. Fuyuhiko unlocks the door, fluidly tapping a long, numerical password into a panel. He enters first and Hajime follows meekly behind.

The door closes behind him, muting the sounds of the club to a background murmur and Hajime fully aware that he’s alone with the gold dragon in a room that can only be described as sexy with its padded leather, chrome accents, and low-lighting.

Fuyuhiko walks around and leans against the edge of the sleek black desk. Hajime sits in one of the cushioned chairs in front of it after Fuyuhiko makes an impatient noise and glares at him.

“The only new hire so far is kitsune bartender who doesn’t start for another couple of days.”

Fuyuhiko cuts right to the chase and Hajime feels all his blood drain from his body. He had seen a hiring ad for the club, looking for mundanes to work as bartenders and waitstaff. He’d applied on a whim and been called in for an interview a few weeks later. His interviewer had been a faerie of some sort. She had an air of royalty in the way of all fae Hajime had ever interacted with, but she also had the air of royalty of someone actually royal. She was…eccentric. Hajime thinks that his doubts about her role at _H &D_ may have been more than a little valid now.

Fuyuhiko continues, sharp eyes focused on Hajime. “And mundanes _never_ work on the first floor. And you’ve seen why. So why the fuck were you down there?”

“I swear, I saw a hiring ad and applied a few weeks ago. I got called in for an interview about a week ago and two days ago I got a call saying I was hired. I came in today and got my uniform and was sent out to take care of tables and deliver drinks. Sir. Mr. Kuzuryuu.” How does one address the heir to an empire with (alleged) mob affiliations?

Fuyuhiko wrinkles his nose and it’s completely and utterly unfair. “Fuyuhiko is fine.  Who interviewed you?”

Hajime blanks on her name. He’s pretty sure she didn’t even give him one. “Uh, she was blonde, I think a faerie.”

Fuyuhiko groans aloud and pinches the bridge of his freckled button nose. “Long blonde hair, clothes like a European boarding school uniform? A guy with spikey pink hair at her heels? Sparkly eyes and didn’t really ever listen to anything you said?”

Hajime just nods, that’s pretty much the person. The pink haired man with far too sharp teeth had been the one to open the door to the office while the faerie princess had quizzed Hajime on whether he had experiences with the occult or spirits of the dead. He’d put it off to some sort of faerie thing at the time. Besides, you don’t question your interviewer’s sanity when you’re a bit desperate for a job. There was only so much longer he could take of his old job as a waiter at a terrible restaurant an hour away from his apartment and university.

“Fucking Sonia.” Fuyuhiko shakes his head, grumbling, “I knew something was up. The hell is she doing trying to run _my_ club? I’m going to fucking kill her.”

Hajime just sits quietly, hands clenching his knees, twisting in the black work apron tied around his waist.

Fuyuhiko stops muttering – Hajime purposely tried not to parse out the exact words in case he hears things that could make him a witness of some sort – and runs a hand through his closely cropped hair.

“Sonia may be… Sonia. But she wouldn’t hire someone incompetent. And we have been looking for a mundane hire – sometimes those diverse workplace quotas are a pain in the ass – but haven’t found anyone yet.” Hajime tries to control the overwhelming hope and relief that surges through him. “Today’s your trial day. If you don’t fuck up, you can stay.”

“Thank you so much, Mr—ah—er. Thank you, Fuyuhiko.”

Hajime’s not sure if he imagined it – and if so, it’s one of his brain’s best work – but at least now he’s got an image of Fuyuhiko smiling the slightest bit safely tucked away in his mind.

The smile, figment or not, is gone too quickly to ponder further, however. “But you’re on _this_ floor. And I’m going to find who sent you out downstairs because you reek of mundane. Only an idiot would mistake you for a kitsune.”

Hajime doesn’t know if he should feel offended, but he does feel a sharp nip of hurt. You can’t choose or control what you are. His entire family is completely mundane and growing up he’d always hoped there was some sort of unknown recessive gene passed to him. Maybe one day he’d wake up… as something.

It must have shown on his face because Fuyuhiko adds, “If anything, you’d be a brownie. Something innocent.”

If only Fuyuhiko knew how decidedly _not_ innocent Hajime thoughts are. Or maybe not. But Hajime smiles up at the dragon in thanks, even if he’s just saying things to humor the painfully mundane human.

“You’re cleaning tables and delivering drinks. How long were you working tonight?”

“Until closing,” Hajime answers. There’s another three hours until then. He’d been planning on working long shifts on the nights he didn’t have early classes.

Fuyuhiko nods and that’s the end of that. Hajime is dismissed and leaves the office. He goes to the bar and is immediately set to work delivering a tray of drinks to a booth. At first, he can’t stop his eyes from straying to the mirrors of the office’s outer walls. Fuyuhiko could be watching him, waiting for him to screw up and kick him out. Or eat him. Hajime wouldn’t mind being eaten in a different way.

But soon, he’s focused on working. Even though the VIP floor has fewer people, it’s still a busy weekend night at a popular club. Hajime has no room to think about the gold dragon. It’s not for until close to closing, when customers are leaving or order their last drinks that Hajime has a moment to breathe. He’s behind the bar, covering for one of the bartenders who had to take an emergency call, cleaning glasses and putting bottles back up on the shelves when he hears someone clear their throat and tap on the counter behind him.

“Be right with you,” Hajime says without turning around. There’s an expensive bottle of gin popular with the werepeople crowd in his hands that goes on a shelf almost out of his reach. He has to stretch his full height and a bit to safely put it away.

Bottle away, he wipes his hands on his half-apron and turns around with the patented service-grin. “What can I do for y—Mr. Kuzuryuu!” Wide-eyed, Hajime stumbles over his words and his own feet. He just barely manages to keep himself upright by bracing his hands against the counter.

Fuyuhiko looks entirely unimpressed. And ridiculously attractive. Not that he wasn’t before, but it’s been a good few hours since Hajime saw the man and the surprise coupled with fatigue after a long day feels like he’s seeing Fuyuhiko for the first time all over again.

In a way it is, at least this version of Fuyuhiko. He’s ditched his black blazer and his white shirt, the sleeves rolled up sloppily, look suspiciously sleep wrinkled – and that’s an image Hajime has to blink away lest he do something stupid. Coupled with the glow of the soft blue lights, Fuyuhiko looks inviting and Hajime desperately wants to be invited.

“I mean, Fuyuhiko,” Hajime corrects himself. Fuyuhiko’s eyebrows move a fraction. “Can I get you anything?”

Fuyuhiko’s eyes flit over the bottles on the shelves behind Hajime, drumming the long, elegant fingers of one hand against the glossy black countertop while the other cups his cheek. “Hmm. Surprise me.”

Gold eyes, luminous and predatory, blink slowly. Hajime feels them as he nods and turns to figure out what to give the man. He has some experience in bartending but he’s an amateur at best with mundane drinks. So he sticks to what he knows and doesn’t touch any of the paranormal liquors. He fixes up some mundane whiskey, ginger liqueur, lemon juice, and crushed ice into a cocktail glass and serves it with his heart pounding in his throat.

Fuyuhiko is expressionless as he takes the glass, swirls it around a bit before taking a sip. It’s a simple cocktail and Hajime could have gone for something a little more complicated or unique, but the drink is the color of Fuyuhiko’s eyes and Hajime has little else on his mind.

When he sets the glass down, it feels like years have passed. Hajime’s barely breathing.

“Not bad for a mundane drink. Try gnomish scotch and a sugar rim next time.”

Gnomish scotch is widely known for being a confoundingly sweet, almost sugary whiskey that still somehow maintains the burn of an alarmingly high proof. It’s often times too syrupy sweet for anyone but a gnome. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu has a sweet tooth. The knowledge makes Hajime a little weak in the knees. Thankfully, he’s braced against the counter already and doesn’t fall like an idiot.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hajime manages to answer without too much of a waver in his voice.

Across the room, a table calls for attention ready to pay their tab. Hajime quickly excuses himself and goes to sort them out. This leads to a round of clearing nearby tables and returning to the bar laden with receipts and dirty glasses. Fuyuhiko’s on his phone, slowly nursing his drink.

Hajime cleans glasses and wipes down the counter. Fuyuhiko asks for a glass of water when he finishes his drink and sits at the bar while Hajime and the other employees start flipping chairs onto tables and wiping down every surface. Hajime’s on broom duty when someone clears their throat behind him.

Fuyuhiko nods over towards the office. “Stop by when you’re done. If I’m not back just wait.” Then he heads downstairs.

Hajime finishes up and when everyone else leaves for the night, he gathers his things from the staff room and goes to Fuyuhiko’s office. The dragon hasn’t returned, so Hajime stands against the wall to wait. He goes plays on his phone, responding to texts and killing time checking through social media.  Chiaki asked about his first day and he’s about to reply when polished black leather boots peek into his peripheral.

Fuyuhiko unlocks the office doors and barely waits for Hajime to stumble through before getting locked out. He retakes his place against his desk and Hajime returns to the chair in front of it, his bag between his feet.

“Start learning how to mix paranormal drinks, in particular the specials. You can take a photo of the cheat sheet in the drawer by the register to study. I want you knowing them by heart by next week.”

It takes Hajime a moment to comprehend what Fuyuhiko isn’t explicitly saying.

“Do you understand?” Fuyuhiko presses, a touch of impatience coloring his tone.

Hajime is quick to nod then. “Yes, of course! Thank you.”

Fuyuhiko spends a few minutes going over Hajime’s schedule and other technical details. The days and hours Hajime had told Sonia still worked so he was set to have shifts Tuesday, Thursday through Saturday, and if needed Sunday. He’d be working the late shift for the most part, and longer during the weekend nights.

Details sorted, Fuyuhiko settles into his chair and dismisses Hajime for the night. “I’ll see you Tuesday, then.”

“Yes, sir, uh. Fuyuhiko. Thank you, have a good night!”

When Hajime gets home, the sun soon to rise, he strips and falls into bed. For the first time that he can remember, he can’t wait until his next shift.

* * *

Hajime sleeps through Sunday morning and into the afternoon. When he finally wakes up, he spends the rest of the day trying to get through assignments and failing at not daydreaming about his new boss. Tuesday couldn’t come fast enough.

Monday he goes in for his morning class, barely finishing up the response paper before he rushes out to catch the train. The class goes by quickly as he spends it finishing the problem sets due for his afternoon class tomorrow.

He’s got a few hours before his next class and heads to the student lounge to get more work done. Most of that work is not school related.

Before he had left _H &D_ Saturday night, technically Sunday morning, he’d done as told and taken a photo of the drinks cheat sheet at the bar. There’s a considerable number of specialty drinks to memorize, some made with liquors Hajime had no idea even existed. When he looks them up he realizes it wouldn’t have mattered because there’s no way he was ever going to be able to afford to purchase even the smallest bottles without completely decimating his groceries budget. Not to mention the drinks are specifically for paranomals and any one of the cocktails is alcohol poisoning in a glass for a mundane.

Hajime’s in the middle of quizzing himself on what makes up a given drink when a shadow appears in his peripheral. Snow-white feathers brush against his shoulder.

“Hey, how was class?” Hajime looks up, greeting Chiaki, her fluffy white wings are tucked up behind her.

Chiaki settles on the comfy chair beside him, already pressing buttons on her portable game console, the faint sound of the game’s music audible through the earbud hanging down Chiaki’s side. “Okay. Are you doing the readings for our next class?”

Hajime shook his head. “I have cocktails to memorize for my new job.” He hadn’t done the readings and didn’t exactly plan on doing them either.

“How was it?”

Hajime relays a summary of events and Chiaki pauses her game as he talks about the mix up on how he wasn’t actually hired.

“You had an eventful first day,” she says once he’s finished.

“That’s one way to describe it. But I got the job for real so it all worked out.” Not to mention his boss was the guy he’s been lusting after in magazines for literal years now. Although whether that’s a pro or a con is yet to be seen.

* * *

Tuesday night arrives and working for the man who played a part in helping you affirm your attraction to the same sex leans towards being a con. Hajime’s grateful for the server aprons they have to wear because apparently Fuyuhiko does his best to help open the club and when he doesn’t have other arrangements, he dresses lax in the way of fitted jeans and casual collared shirts with the sleeves rolled up messily.

When chairs are laid back out, bar checked and stocked, floor clean, and all the little pre-opening duties done, Fuyuhiko crooks his fingers at Hajime. “New guy, bar.”

It takes Hajime a moment to shake the image of Fuyuhiko gesturing for Hajime to follow after him for an entirely different reason before he’s scampering at Fuyuhiko’s heels and goes behind the bar.

Fuyuhiko props his chin in his hand on the counter, a pose reminiscent of one of the embarrassingly numerous magazine spreads Hajime has of Fuyuhiko from when they were both younger. In one particular photo, Fuyuhiko’s face is rounder with youth, his lithe stature emphasized with how he shot with his father, a burlier man who seemed to only pass on his eyes to his son.

While the older Kuzuryuu was attractive in the way of a dominant, older male figure, Hajime’s teenaged eyes couldn’t keep themselves off the boy his age. The boy his age that was already taking part in the family business and receiving ownership of a club the day he turned eighteen. Then, he’d been dressed in a black blazer and gold shirt shades paler than his eyes. His expression had been bored with a hint of irritation in the set of his mouth. Hajime was in love in the way of a simple boy just out of puberty.

Now his expression is calculating. Hajime stands with his back straight, waiting. Fuyuhiko’s gaze flits across the bottles behind Hajime before meeting Hajime’s gaze directly.

“A Goodbye Despair.”

Hajime nods and sets to work immediately, grabbing a tall glass and the required bottles. He’s somewhat relieved that Fuyuhiko’s going easy on him, testing him with _H &D_’s most popular specialty drink.

In minutes, Hajime’s pouring the mixture over ice, a fizzy silver concoction thanks to a faerie spirit and tonic water, and adds the final fruity dark red liqueur over the top. Sliding a straw in, he sets the drink on top of a coaster and slides it in front of Fuyuhiko whose eyes Hajime felt analyzing his every movement.

Fuyuhiko gave nothing away in his expression as he slid the drink closer to himself. He swirled the straw in the drink, mixing red and silver into a cosmos that settles into a soft pink-red before taking a sip. Hajime swallows as Fuyuhiko’s mouth wraps around the straw for more reasons than sweat inducing anxiety.

When Fuyuhiko pulls off, his expression remains blank and unyielding. Hajime bits at his lip, tries to refrain from squirming and shifting on his feet. Finally, Fuyuhiko concedes. “Not bad. Add a bit more ice next time, a lot of faerie liquors are too potent for a lot of people without diluting it.”

“Okay, I’ll remember.” Hajime relaxes minutely. That wasn’t terrible and he managed to pass muster at the very least. Fuyuhiko sends him off to wait tables as the first rush of patrons for the night fills the club.

The night goes by smoothly, the crowd much smaller compared to Saturday but still busy, Hajime never having an extended moment of idling. His ten minute break comes as a reprieve he takes in the staff room with one of his coworkers who works downstairs. She’s one of the bouncers, a shapeshifter of some sort. Carnivorous judging by the amount of meat she consumes. When Hajime enters the breakroom with a grateful sigh, she’s munching away on fried chicken. The containers are from a popular barbeque chicken place down the street. By the looks of it, it’s she’s on her third box.

“Newbie!” she exclaims, mouth full with the chunk of meat she just tore off a drumstick.

“Hey, Akane.” Hajime goes for one of the chilled water bottles in the fridge before taking a seat opposite Akane.at the small coffee table. She offers him a piece of chicken and Hajime accepts. At the first bite, he’s immediately going for his water, chugging half the bottle.

Akane just laughs. “I forgot! Mundanes find this too spicy.”

“Normal people find it too spicy, Akane.” Comes a voice from the small locker rooms where the staff could change and store their belongings. It’s a voice that has Hajime swallowing his water the wrong way, sputtering and choking. There’s a hand on his back, rubbing up and down as he tries to breathe through water. The hand is firm with its even strokes and unbearably hot through his shirt. He wants to feel it on his skin.

When he manages to finally limit his spluttering to sporadic coughs, Hajime looks up at Fuyuhiko, face red from more than lack of oxygen. “Thank you.”

Fuyuhiko’s hand lingers against the top of Hajime’s spine as he stares down at Hajime with a faint scowl. When Fuyuhiko’s hand leaves his skin, Hajime struggles between feeling thankful it’s no longer jumbling his thoughts and wanting it back.

“Man, Newbie, we need to build up your spice tolerance,” Akane says.

“His spice tolerance is probably fine, Akane, you’re the one with the abnormal tolerance,” Fuyuhiko retorts. To Hajime, he says. “If she ever offers you anything, first ask if it’s spicy. If it is, even if she says not by that much, don’t eat it. Most places she eats from have a special spice level just for her.”

Hajime looks warily at the piece of chicken he’d only taken a small bite out of. Fuyuhiko snorts from above him and plucks the piece from his hand. “The chicken place delivers here if you order ahead. Otherwise you can grab something from the kitchens or steal one of the snacks from the fridge if you don’t bring your own.”

Hajime barely registers his word as Fuyuhiko takes a bite out of the pilfered chicken. It’s so juvenile but he can’t help seeing Fuyuhiko biting into the part Hajime’s mouth had been around moments before. Misinterpreting Hajime’s staring, Fuyuhiko raises one delicate brow. “I’m a dragon, we can take a little heat.”

Akane goes back to work immediately after finishing her boxes of chicken, which is not long after Fuyuhiko leaves them, licking his fingers and tossing out the cleaned bone he gave one final suck. Hajime’s both thankful and irritated that Akane forces his attention back to her. She makes Hajime commit to going to the chicken place with her another time, before work, and then focuses on her snack.

Hajime spends the last few minutes of his break mulling over Fuyuhiko’s innocuous remark. Something about the way Fuyuhiko drawled the words out, one hand still on the back of Hajime’s chair close enough that his knuckles had ghosted against Hajime’s back added some underlying meaning. Or Hajime’s lust-filled brain was adding fantasy to reality. It’s likely the latter.

Since he opened and has a semi-early day tomorrow, Hajime’s shift ends a few hours before midnight, the club still open for another five. He’s cleaning up the last couple of tables and replacing drinks before he clocks out until Thursday when Fuyuhiko makes an appearance on the floor again. He takes a seat at one of the tall tables that seats two but you can squeeze five if you’re determined near where Hajime’s just served drinks and a platter of bar snacks to a group of business men and women in a booth. Their eyes meet, Hajime because he can’t seem to ever take his eyes off of his boss whenever he’s in view, and Fuyuhiko because he crooks his index finger and calls him over.

“How can I help you?” Hajime asks, tucking the empty tray under his arm, back straight, thoughts inappropriate.

Fuyuhiko smirks up at him. Even in the tall barstool, especially when he’s curled over, cheek in hand, Hajime has a few centimeters on the blond dragon. “Part two of your quiz before you clock out.”

Hajime’s heart trips. At first it’s because of the unexpectedness, even more of a surprise than the initial pop quiz. Then it’s because Fuyuhiko smiles at how obviously Hajime was thrown off balance at the announcement. It’s a mischievous curl of his mouth, eyes glinting with a smug sort of humor of one with the upper hand and they know and will gloat about it.

“Surprise me. Something simple with rum.”

Hajime nods and goes to the bar. He doesn’t know if this another test on the specialty drinks or if it’s like his test to be actually hired. And is the rum supposed to be a trick question? Does he want mundane rum or something paranormal?

His mind is a whir as he slips behind the bar and looks over the selections of rum. The specialty cocktails that have rum in them aren’t what Hajime would call simple by any means, and they’re often mixed with other drinks, so he goes for a classic cocktail and hopes he gets the needed adjustments right when he goes for siren rum over the familiar bottle he’s gotten sick off of in rum-heavy daiquiris in the past. He puts a little more ginger beer than he would with some normal dark rum and adds a splash of simple syrup. Hopefully, the drink is both spicy with a touch of sweetness. A lime wedge to finish it off, and a thin black straw, Hajime walks back to Fuyuhiko whose eyes have not left him for a second. His face, as before, reveals nothing as Hajime places the drink before him.

“Siren rum is known to pack some heat. Any reason for choosing it?” Fuyuhiko asks, swirling the straw around.

“Uh,” Hajime falters, embarrassed. “Dragons can take a little heat, right?”

Fuyuhiko pauses in his stirring, and a hint of emotion breaks through his deadpan façade. His eyes widen the slightest bit and his mouth rounds ever so before his lips twitch upwards and something akin to mirth dances in his eyes for a heartbeat.

“Right,” he replies and tries the drink.

It feels like years before Fuyuhiko licks his lips and raises his gaze to Hajime. “Your listening skills are something.”

Hajime blinks. “Uh, thanks?”

With a huff, Fuyuhiko plays with the straw. “Sweet and spicy. You remembered off-hand comments.”

Realization and a healthy flush came over Hajime. “Oh! Uh, yeah,” Hajime laughs self-consciously. “I guess.” Fuyuhiko doesn’t need to know it took Hajime almost a month to remember Chiaki likes orange flavored lollipops and hates grape.

“Alright. You can go home now.” Fuyuhiko smirks. “And come back on Thursday.”

“Thank you. I’ll, uh, good night.” Hajime holds back a grimace. _I’ll, uh, good night_ , his brain repeats in a poor impersonation, his own subconscious mocking him as he head to the staff room to collect his things and head home.

* * *

Over the next week, every shift he has, Hajime undergoes at least one pop quiz by Fuyuhiko. Sometimes he’ll ask for one of the specialty cocktails, sometimes he asks for a surprise. He hasn’t seemed to fail one yet since he’s made it two weeks and it’s his first payday.

He starts his shift and waits for Fuyuhiko to call him to a table or come up to the bar with the day’s first quiz. He keeps an eye out for the dragon as he delivers drinks and snacks, cleans tables, helps out behind the bar when the crowd gets overwhelming. But by the time his break comes around, he’s yet to see even a glimpse of the blond. He’s glanced towards Fuyuhiko’s office probably one too many times, but no one’s gone in or come out. And if Fuyuhiko was just holing himself inside and watching over the floor from his desk, Hajime wouldn’t be able to tell through the one-way glass anyway.

In the staffroom, Kazuichi, a hanzaki-adjacent paranormal who was in charge of all maintenance aspects of _H &D_, was lying on the couch. He was the man who had let Hajime and Sonia into Fuyuhiko’s office for Hajime initial interview. He’s in love with Sonia, the only person unaware being the faerie herself who only has eyes for mundane occult and spiritualism, and a certain eccentric paranormal professor who frequents _H &D _at least once a week.

“Yo,” Kazuichi raises a hand in greeting, grinning with his shark-like teeth. “If you need the bathroom, I’d use the public ones. There’s an issue with the pipes so the staff ones are out of commission until I fix them. I sent Nekomaru out to get me some parts.”

Hajime grabs a water bottle from the fridge and sits across from Kazuichi. “I’m just taking my break.”

They chat for a bit, but Hajime’s distracted, thoughts flitting back to the lack of a certain dragon. Kazuichi notices.

“What’s up?”

Hajime rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. I guess I’m waiting for Fuyuhiko to pop out of nowhere and give me my pop quiz of the day.”

Kazuichi laughs. “I’ve never seen him come by so often as he has lately, much less test a newbie so much. I mean, I sort of get the testing because you weren’t technically actually hired at first but it’s been entertaining to hear about and watch.”

Hajime’s stuck on one comment. “Him being here often isn’t normal?”

“Nah, not really. He’ll drop by maybe once every few weeks?”

While Hajime wants to ask more, Nekomaru comes barging into the staffroom with a plastic shopping bag.

“I have your tools!” Nekomaru bellows. When he spots Hajime he beams. “Newbie!” He’s very similar to Akane and Hajime is both curious and afraid of what it’s like to be around the both of them at the same time. Kazuichi sorts through the purchases and goes to the staff bathroom while Nekomaru heads back downstairs to return to his post as bouncer. “See you, Hajime! You’re still going drinking with us next week, right?”

Hajime nods, tossing he empty water bottle away. Somehow, he’s gotten friendly with the paranormal staff instead of the few other mundane hires. But he’s not complaining. “Yeah. See you!”

When he returns to the floor, the next few hours go by in a blur of activity. Hajime barely has time to think about Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi’s comments. Things start winding down towards closing, especially after last call, and Hajime is more than ready to go home and sleep through Sunday until he has to wake up Monday for class.

He’s putting back bottles when someone calls for his attention.

“Sorry, bar’s closed,” he says before turning around and stumbling at the sight of Fuyuhiko leaning against the countertop. “Fuyuhiko! Uh. I, hello.”

Fuyuhiko’s gaze flicks up and down Hajime’s form before he tilts his head towards his office. “Come by when you’ve clocked out.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, pushing off the bar counter once he’s said his piece and saunters to his office, disappearing behind the door. Hajime isn’t sure if he’s disappointed or relieved that there’s no quiz.

Fatigue all but vanished, Hajime finishes up his shift, clocks out, and ventures to Fuyuhiko’s office. He’ll grab his belongings when Fuyuhiko’s done with him and he heads home. He’s let in moments after knocking and follows Fuyuhiko to his desk.

“This won’t take long, I just need you to double check some papers so your salary gets wired to your account properly.”

Hajime hovers in front of Fuyuhiko’s desk, while Fuyuhiko goes to one of the cabinets against the wall, unlocking one and rifling through files. He returns with some papers and lays them on the desk. Hajime goes through the papers, bent over the desk. He has the vague feeling of being watched, which of course, Fuyuhiko is right there, but the gaze on him feels more than cursory. Putting it off to his imagination in proximity to Fuyuhiko, he affirms that everything is fine and Fuyuhiko takes the papers and sets them off to the side. But he doesn’t move, and Hajime is stuck between Fuyuhiko and his desk.

“Great, thanks. How have your first two weeks been?”

“Good,” Hajime answers. “I really like working here.”

Fuyuhiko quirks a brow, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Really!” Hajime insists. “I swear I’m not just saying that.”

“If you say so. Regardless, you’ve been doing well. You pick things up quick, and did well on my little pop quizzes.”

Hajime’s mind goes to the drinks he’s made for Fuyuhiko’s quizzes. In these short two weeks, he pretty much knows all of Fuyuhiko’s favorite liquors and tastes, adjusting all the drinks he’s made to suit what he learns of the dragon. In hindsight, he’s been so embarrassingly obvious. Worse than Kazuichi.

“You’re good at adjusting things to a customer’s taste,” Fuyuhiko says, as if reading Hajime’s mind. Hajime’s pretty sure mind-reading isn’t an ability dragons have. He feels his face heat up, nevertheless, which is as good as broadcasting his thoughts.

“And…” Fuyuhiko’s arms uncross and he stalks forward. Hajime instinctively steps back.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that every time I let you pick a drink, it’s always some sort of shade of gold.” Fuyuhiko comes even closer, backing Hajime up until there’s nowhere Hajime has left to go unless it’s on top of Fuyuhiko’s desk.

Fuyuhiko cages him against the chrome and black furniture, hands braced either side of Hajime’s hips. Even though he’s looking down, Hajime can’t help but feel small. There’s a predator before him and he’s the prey.

Gold eyes meet his unwaveringly. Hajime watches the pupils turn into reptile-slits. A hand, peppered with glossy gold scales creeping up into Fuyuhiko’s folded up shirt sleeve, presses against the center of Hajime’s chest. There’s no way Fuyuhiko doesn’t feel Hajime’s heart race, trip over its own too-fast beats. He tries to swallow, his throat stuck and mouth bone dry.

Pressure forces him further back, onto the desk and he only just saves himself from falling over by gripping the edge of the desk, wrist brushing against Fuyuhiko’s other hand at his hip.

“Uhm,” Hajime tries to speak, but he doesn’t know what he was going to say even if he were able.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes are no longer human. Scales form at the corners, creeping down sharp cheekbones. Hajime learns that freckles are still visible on scales.

If he’s dreaming he doesn’t want to wake up.

That hand that’s against his chest, slides up to his shoulder. Fuyuhiko uses Hajime’s shoulder as leverage to climb on top of the desk, straddling Hajime’s lap. Hajime’s hands automatically go to Fuyuhiko’s hips to keep him from falling.

He _really_ doesn’t want this dream to end.

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he breathes, staring up at Fuyuhiko smirking down at him.

Fuyuhiko settles in Hajime’s lap, a solid weight of warmth and power. Arms go around Hajime’s shoulders. He feels pricks of claws drag lightly against his skin, through the fabric of his shirt. Hajime probably has a stupid look on his face, something obvious and dumb and star-struck.

And then Fuyuhiko kisses him and clearly Hajime’s not sleeping, he’s dead and somehow made it to the good kind of afterlife.

He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s a dragon, but Fuyuhiko’s kiss fills Hajime with warmth, like huddling under a blanket in front of a blazing fire on a crisp fall night when the power’s out.

The kiss feels too brief, but Hajime’s mouth is swollen and he’s breathing heavily when he opens his eyes and drinks in Fuyuhiko, mouth slick, eyes blown and shining, skin and scales tinged pink.

“Just so you know,” Fuyuhiko murmurs, “this isn’t a regular occurrence on paydays. But, fuck, you’ve been looking at me like this since we met.”

Mouth on autopilot, no brain-to-mouth filter, Hajime blurts, “I’ve been looking at you like this since I was like fourteen and saw you on TV with your family and realized I was gay.”

There’s a pause before Hajime has a lapful of a laughing dragon. When Fuyuhiko gets is laughter under control, he shakes his head at Hajime. “What are you doing Monday night?”

Hajime blinks. “Nothing.” Was Fuyuhiko going to ask if he could work that night?

“Get dinner with me?” Fuyuhiko asks.

Hajime’s an idiot.

“Uh, wouldn’t there be… issues since I work for you?” Part of his brain yells at him to stop talking.

“I may own this place, but I don’t come around as often as I have been since I hired you.” Hajime hears the echo of Kazuichi’s remark from earlier. “My sister is the one who actually runs the place, but she’s out of town until next week. I’m pretty much just the name on the deed.”

There’s not much said about Fuyuhiko’s sister. She’s always been in the background since Fuyuhiko’s the Kuzuryuu heir that often times, she’s forgotten.

Hajime feels a nip at his neck. Fuyuhiko bit him.

“You bit me?” The sting isn’t bad, it’s more surprise than anything.

“Stop thinking about my sister and about whether you want to get dinner with me or not on Monday.”

Hajime has a sulking, impatient dragon in his lap. There’s no other answer than a rushed, stumbling, “Yes!—uh, I mean, yeah, sounds good. I’d like that.”


End file.
